


The opacifier clears

by cincave



Category: Gaya Sa Pelikula (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29584785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincave/pseuds/cincave
Summary: In instant film e.g. Polaroid, all the chemicals needed to develop each picture is present in each print. One of the chemicals is an opacifier which blocks light from overexposing the instant film before it is finishing developing.Towards the end, another chemical clears up the opacifier which eventually shows the fully-developed image that it was protecting, giving the illusion that the picture is developing in front of you.It is the last chemical reaction to occur before revealing the complete picture.
Relationships: Karl Frederick Almasen/Jose Vladimir Austria
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40
Collections: Kilometer Zero: A GSP Prompt Fest 2021





	The opacifier clears

**The opacifier clears**

On Tuesday, Fate falls asleep.

On Tuesday, Karl wakes up and the world has forgotten him.

He remembers Vlad kissing him good night the night before. He remembers that the last thing he heard is this inexplicable snap, like a rubber band being released. He remembers falling asleep to the sound of Vlad watching Cinema Paradiso on his phone which could be where the sound might have come from. 

He remembers all of them, all his friends and his entire life. 

Yet, on this Tuesday, somehow he knows that the world has forgotten him. 

He sits up from the bed, throws aside the covers and looks around his apartment. 

_His_ apartment. 

Tito Santi finally sold it to him after he moved to Canada with his husband. 

There were too many memories here for Karl to ever let it go, both laughter and tears tucked into the cracks in the walls. The walls have been repainted several times over the years but there are memories behind each layer. 

Behind OC-130 Cloud White, Karl gave himself permission to be gay, to be _bakla,_ to be true and free. Behind AMC Autumn Yellow, Karl sat on the couch every night for two years, waiting for Vlad because there was no one else he wanted. No one else’s fingers fit into the space between Karl’s fingers the way Vlad’s did. 

And, finally, behind HC-77 Alexandria Beige, Vlad followed his heart’s compass to true north and came home to him.

Now, all of it is gone.

Their kettle with the broken handle because Karl dropped it in surprise when he found out his screenplay was going to be a movie. The little resilient fern plant in the corner which has been the silent witness to so many of their fights and forgiveness, growing with their love. The threadbare comforter draped over the back of their couch which smelled like Downy and their whispered conversations in the night.

All of it gone. 

There is a black water heater in the countertop, bland and functional. There are no plants in the apartment, no green life to greet him in the mornings. There is a thick unsentimental comforter on the couch, looking brand new and unused, missing all the times it warmed their guests over the years. 

Suddenly, Karl feels so translucent, as if he is going to fade away from too much light exposure, a film opened too early.

Then the door to the apartment opens and Tito Santi comes in.

With Tito Eman. The ex.

Tito Santi is carrying what’s left of a large tub of popcorn, the remains of what seems to be their movie date. Karl watches as Tito Santi takes out a plastic container and dumps the remains of the popcorn into it before placing it in the refrigerator. All along, Tito Eman watches him with a guilty and wretched look on his face.

Karl isn’t sure how he knows this but, in this lifetime where both world and time seem to have forgotten him, it looks like Tito Santi stayed at the condo and never lent it out to Karl. He never caught his boyfriend cheating on him. 

It’s like Karl could see the backstage of the universe and he sees it so clearly: the moment where Tito Santi catches Tito Eman _in flagrante delicto_ never happened.

Tito Eman is still cheating and Tito Santi doesn’t know.

“Tito Santi,” he says, voice suddenly scratchy. “Kilala niyo po ba ako?”

Tito Santi looks at him, eyes focusing and then suddenly past him. He looks a few more seconds before shrugging. 

“Eman, tara. Akyat na tayo. Pagod na ‘ko,” Tito Santi says. 

Karl watches them go and he is transported to that first year in college when all he did was to watch life but never participate in it. He was always lettings happen to him instead of having things happen because of him. 

Whatever this version of life, it seems that the universe has finally put him in his correct and rightful place: always doomed to be an observer, to watch from outside in.

Without Vlad or Anna to invite him to be part of life, not only has the world forgotten him, the world also doesn’t see him. He fought so hard: to be brave, to step out of silence and shadows. To be seen, be heard. To be worthy of telling other people’s stories.

And now, he is back to that loveless solitude.

This loneliness where the world is quiet and safe, where the people are colorful and beautiful but never for him to touch or to hold. Where the stories are heart-wrenching but distant. Where love is vibrant but not for him.

Suddenly, he hears loud music through the walls, party-loud, bass insistent and his heart starts beating faster. He knows that song. He remembers that song. 

Because on the night that someone pierced his loveless solitude, that song was playing. He met Vlad on that night.

He runs for the door, grips the doorknob tight, turns it and leaves the condo. He wants to see Vlad. 

His first step out of the silence and shadows was through Vlad. And, whatever this bleak lonely universe that he has found himself in, he thinks that Vlad might be the same way he gets out of it. 

His feet, his mind and his heart carries him to the few meters in front of Vlad’s old unit and he takes a deep breath before raising. 

Then he stops himself, dread filling him. What if Vlad doesn’t remember him? What if Vlad looks at him and all he has is a question mark on his face? Is he ready to see the ring finger on Vlad’s hand to not have a ring? Not even have a strip of pale flesh where their symbol of commitment used to be?

Karl leans his forehead on the door. 

_Not him, please, not him._

For all the color in Karl’s home, it would all be gray if Vlad doesn’t remember him. 

All is gray without him.

Maybe, he shouldn’t knock. Maybe, he should just stand here. Maybe, it would be better to exist as this translucent spectre than to know that Vlad is capable of completely forgetting him. 

Then, in his mind, he hears Vlad’s voice:

_Hanggang saan ang tapang mo?_

And he hears his answer as well: _hanggang sa maging sa’kin ka na ulit._

No hesitation. He raises his hand and knocks on the door, loudly and undeniable. He has faith. He knows Vlad will know him and remember him.

It is an eternity before it opens and-

Oh.

In all versions of their lives, Vlad is still so handsome. 

Vlad looks at him, clearly drunk off his ass, annoyance written all over his face. It is the same annoyance that one shows to people who accost you in the bus to ask you if you have met and been saved by the Lord Jesus Christ or credit card sellers while you walk to your job: the annoyance of unwelcome and unknown strangers.

“Excuse me, do you mi-...” Vlad starts then trails off. He looks at Karl closely and Karl cannot help it. He reaches out and touches Vlad’s face, cupping his cheek and Vlad immediately closes his eyes, pushing his face into the touch.

 _You may not know me,_ Karl thinks. _But your body does, your heart does._

“Hi, Vlad,” Karl whispers reverently.

Vlad opens his eyes and looks at him. “I know you, don’t I?”

Karl nods his head, suddenly so happy. “Yes, yes, you do.”

Vlad looks at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, still extremely annoyed. Yet through the haze of alcohol, Karl sees that glimmer of recognition. 

Then suddenly, like sunlight breaking through months of punishing rain, despite reeking of alcohol and sweat, Vlad bursts into a bright, bright smile. He puts his hand on Karl’s chest, and pushes him to the wall. 

Then, he leans in and whispers, “hi, neighbour.” 

And, suddenly, the world resets.

*

 _What’s happening_ , Coincidence asks then looks at the bed of nebulas where Fate is sleeping. _Why is Fate asleep?_

From across an eternity of seconds and hours, Time looks at Coincidence and smiles. 

_Watch_ , Time says.

*

On Wednesday, Karl wakes up and the world still does not remember him.

But there is a warmth on his chest and he remembers the searing heat of Vlad’s palm. He feels more solid as if that one glimmer of recognition from Vlad has fortified him, anchored him. He looks at the loveless solitude and thinks _panoorin mo, makakawala uli ako sayo._

Today, he is going to see his parents. He must re-ignite the torches in the night and awaken the night watch. One by one, he will get people to remember him and there is no better place to start than his own family. 

Which is why he is standing in front of his house. 

Karl is standing in front of their house but he does not recognize it. 

Gone is the modest bungalow that he grew up in. In its place is a strange yet somehow familiar two-story house with yellow roof tiles and a jutting garage. There was a tire swing hanging from the mango tree in front where he used to spend afternoons, watching other children from the street play _piko_ and _patintero_. It is gone, the mango tree cut down to make room for a very manicured garden full of trimmed bougainvillea bushes.

He does not recognize this house yet he knows that this is where he lives. He takes a tentative step forward as if afraid that the house would simply fold up and disappear if he moved any closer. When nothing happens, he continues stepping forward until he reaches the gate and presses the doorbell.

Somewhere inside the house, a melodic chime rings out (also different, their old house used to have a very angry and insistent buzz) and he hears a loud male voice shout “sandali lang!”

He takes a step back and tries to take in more of this new house. He wants to know this new version of his childhood home. Did he have his own room? Did he have it on the second floor? Was it on the right side or left side? Did he have childhood accidents on the stairs? Did he still lose his two front milk teeth running into a glass door in this house? Did he also get his first scar by climbing the jalousie windows like ladders only for them to shatter and slice into his knee as he crashed down like Humpty Dumpty?

He tries to see more of the house when he finally realizes why it looks so familiar. He _has seen_ this house before. Rendered in crayon and childish hands and brandished by his father as his borrowed dream.

_Oha! Nahanap ko to! Naaalala mo to? Ilan taon ka nga neto?_

_Hindi naman ako ang nag-drawing niyan, Pa._

Which means-

The front door opens and his Kuya steps out. 

Once again, through his backstage view of the universe, Karl knows that his Kuya exists here. His Kuya lived through that fateful swimming tragedy, became a good son, graduated cum laude in Architecture and brought their dream house to life. 

“Sino yan?” Kuya asks loudy from the front door.

Karl misses a beat, then another one, then another one. He doesn’t know what to say so he says the truth. 

“Yung-... yung kapatid mo,” he calls out.

His Kuya looks at him, squinting at him in the same concentrating look that Tito Santi did. But, unlike Tito Santi, the look doesn’t slide past and, instead, turns to recognition.

“O! Napa-uwi ka!” Kuya says and then hurries to open the front gate. “Nagsabi ka ba kay Mama na uuwi ka?”

“Hinde eh,” Karl says weakly. “Biglaan lang to.”

“Sakto ka! Kakaluto lang ni Manang ng turon! Diba gusto mo yon!”

The gate finally opens and his Kuya ushers him inside (“pasok, pasok, bakit wala kang susi? Nawala mo?”) and then sits him at the kitchen table before pushing a plate full of turon in. The turon smells divine and Karl is taking one before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Gusto mo juice?” his Kuya says. “Init sa labas. Wait lang, kuha kita. Bumili si Mama kahapon ng isang karton. Ang sarap!”

His Kuya heads for the refrigerator and starts looking for that carton of orange juice. He wonders if this is what it would have been like to grow up with a kuya: to be doted on and looked after. He wonders how Vlad managed to stand it.

“O kamusta UP? Nahihirapan ka na ba?” 

Karl shakes his head. “Hinde, kaya naman. Na-miss ko lang si Mama’t Papa.”

His Kuya peeks out from the fridge. “Ako, hindi mo na-miss? Grabe.”

 _How do I miss a ghost?_ Karl thinks. _How do I miss someone I have never known? How do I miss a shadow, a spectre?_

But suddenly, Karl realizes that he _does._

He suddenly misses the Kuya he has never known. He misses all the laughs he never got to hear. He misses all the teasing and bullying he never suffered. He misses all the times his Kuya stood up for him, defending him to the death as is the duty and responsibility of all Kuyas and Ates. 

He misses the lifetime of growing up with a brother for a best friend.

He looks at his Kuya, holding the carton in his hand. “Oo, Kuya, na-miss rin kita,” he says truthfully.

Then it is easy, the conversation is easy.

He is ravenous for all the scraps of information he can get from his Kuya in this life. He learns that he is planning to take up his Masters next year. That he asked out his crush in his office and she said yes. He is excited for their date in Chinatown on the weekend. He wants to put up his own architectural firm that focuses on cheap but affordable housing for the marginalized sector. 

He laughs at the hilarious story his Kuya says about his officemate being caught trying to photocopy his dick in the photocopier. He listens to the story of his Tita Girlie marrying her third husband after the first two died of strokes. He learns about Papa’s plans of buying a new family SUV because the old one literally started blowing smoke from the engine during the last family trip.

He listens to all of his Kuya’s dreams and experiences and realizes that these are all stories he never got to know. Maybe, the loveless solitude wouldn’t have been so pervasive if he had a Kuya.

He wants this Kuya to be real so bad. Karl desperately wants to hear his stories as if it would make him real like eating the engkanto rice so his Kuya can stay forever.

So, Karl gives his own stories, tells them. He tells his Kuya about the time his neighbor intruded on him. He tells about the first time his script got picked to be turned into a play. He narrates the story of the time he and Anna decided to visit all the bars in QC and ended up throwing up all over the streets which gets his Kuya to start laughing and laughing.

The night creeps up on them and Karl has so much more stories to tell and he wants to learn so much more about his Lazarus brother.

But then, the clock strikes seven and his Kuya stands up and takes out his phone. 

“Uy parating na yung barkada ko,” he says. “May lakad daw kami.”

His Kuya starts texting on his phone, fingers dancing on the screen as he messages his friend. Suddenly, his Kuya stops and looks at him, smiling. “Uy, salamat ha.”

“Kuya?” Karl asks.

“Alam nating dalawa na hindi dapat ako nandito, diba?” his Kuya says sadly but with the air of inevitability.

Suddenly, his chest feels heavy. _Don’t go_ , he begs in his head. _I only got you now. I want to have a Kuya please._

He grabs his Kuya’s wrist and is shocked when it goes right through. 

“Salamat ulit, bunso,” his Kuya says. “Kahit sandali lang, nabuhay ako at naging Kuya mo ko. Sarap pala maging Kuya.”

Karl closes his eyes, willing himself to not break down. He came here to be remembered and somehow, his Kuya is being forgotten.

“Wag ka mag-alala, parating na yon. Kanina ka pa hinahanap.”

“Kuya, wag muna, please,” Karl begs. 

“Sige, hanggang dito na lang muna tayo,” his Kuya says. “Sagutin mo na yung pinto.”

He watches him fade like bleached film in front of his very eyes and Karl hears the loveless solitude creep in. All those stories, all the childhood memories are fading and all that is replacing it is the silent void.

He cannot stand it and runs for the front door. 

When he opens it to escape, Vlad is on the other side. Vlad looks at him in confusion then thoughtfulness and then, as always, beautiful recognition.

"Hi, _Arki_ ," he says in that deep voice of his.

And the world resets once more.

*****

_How is this happening?_ Coincidence asks.

 _Fate is asleep because of them,_ Time says watching the hourglass spin rapidly in front of him, resetting.

 _Why? How?_ Coincidence presses.

Time looks at her. _How do you think?_

 _Oh,_ Coincidence says. 

_Yes, it’s always love. Now, my dear, I think this is going to be the last day and you’re up._

_It’s always love,_ Coincidence says.

*

On Thursday, Karl wakes up and the world is starting to remember him.

He now realizes that, whatever is happening, the world is remembering him through Vlad. There is no doubt in his mind that he must find Vlad. 

He throws off the covers again and hops out of bed, running downstairs with the aim of going to the unit next door. 

He steps out of his unit and runs into, of all people, Anna. She is wearing a two-piece suit and applying sunblock lotion on her arms and legs.

“Anna!” he calls out.

She looks at him, lotion bottle in hand and towel over her shoulder. One of her eyebrows is raised and she looks him up and down. He hears her mutter _in fairness, may face value_ and he shakes his head.

He steps closer to her and she thrusts the bottle of tanning lotion in front of her, stopping him from getting closer. 

“Hep hep hep! Personal distance tayo, bes,” she says then takes a closer look at him. 

“Ba’t parang pamilyar mukha mo? Magkakilala ba tayo?” Anna says, almost demanding and with eyebrows scrunched together.

Karl bursts out grinning, barely holding back the tears. Of everyone else aside from Vlad, of course, it would be Anna who would remember him. His best friend, his pillar, his strength. It might be Vlad’s love that is pulling him back but now he realizes that Anna’s love has joined in as well.

“Anna, salamat,” he says. “Mahal na mahal kita.”

“Luh,” Anna says, surprised. “Stalker. Hoy! Sinasabi ko sayo, magaling ako manipa ng manyak! Wag ako!”

She is the same. Oh god, she is exactly the same. Then again, this is Anna and her indomitable will. Karl absolutely believes that, in whatever lifetime, she would be the same fierce and loving woman that she is.

“Di ako manyak, Ana,” Karl says. “Bakla lang. Weird question pero may kilala ka bang Vlad?”

“Sinong Vlad?” she asks then her eyes widen in realization. “Ah! Yung gwapong beks na kapatid ni Ate Judit?” 

She says this as she gestures to her face. “Ay! Jowa mo ba siya? In fairness, bagay kayo!” 

Karl smiles. “Parang ganun na nga. Alam mo ba kung nasan siya?”

“Ay, oo! Kaka-daan lang nila ni Judit,” she says and points to the stairwell. “May hinahanap rin siya? Ikaw ba yon?”

Karl looks to the stairwell and, suddenly, he sees himself and Vlad standing at the stairwell, towels slung over their shoulder and Vlad kissing his hand. _Last night na natin to._

He looks back at Anna. “Oo, ako yung hinahanap niya.”

“O dali-dali!” Anna says, elated and pushes him to the stairs. “Hanapin mo na si jowa! Say hi for me!”

He turns around and grabs Anna’s hand. How is he so fortunate to meet two great loves in this lifetime? His husband, Vlad and his best friend, Anna. His heart is full to overflowing with his love for them.

“Anna,” he says. “See you soon.”

Then he runs down the stairs to look for the love of his life. 

He reaches the lobby in time to see the car speed off. He tries to chase it but it quickly goes out of sight. Karl wonders if this is it, if he missed his chance and he is going to be forgotten. 

No. No, of course not. 

He believes in himself, he believes in Vlad and he believes in Vlad’s love for him. He needs to think. He decides to walk towards the gazebo where it all first ended. Where his courage failed him and he let fear rule him. Maybe, if he sat down there, he’d be able to think about what to do next. 

He emerges from the hallway and sees someone sitting on the swing with their back to him.

Karl knows those curls. He was woken up to a thousand mornings and those curls are one of the very first things he sees. He knows that wide back with the gentle sloping shoulders. He has laid his head on it so many times when he needs the grounding. He knows that nape. He knows how it smells. He knows how it feels under his lips when he kisses it.

He knows Vlad.

Whether in the middle of a crowd or 50-feet away with only a silhouette, he will always know it is his Vlad.

He walks slowly towards the swing, looks at the empty space beside Vlad and then sits down.

“Andito ka lang pala,” he says and smiles. “Vlad, hinanap kita.”

“I know,” Vlad says and looks at him. “Hinanap rin kita.”

“Kala ko umalis ka na,” Karl says. “Nakita ko yung kotse niyo paalis na.”

“I know,” Vlad answers. “But something made me stay. I don’t know what it was but it’s like something told me I should enjoy the night here.”

“Buti na lang.”

Karl moves his hand close and, somehow, he knows that Vlad is moving his hand closer too. 

It is the smallest of touches, his pinky brushing against the skin of Vlad’s finger and yet, Karl knows that this is it, this is how the world will remember him.

Vlad leans and Karl meets him halfway and kisses him, a kiss to defy Fate and be returned to love. 

Karl feels himself slowly coming back. In the small space where their lips touch, he feels the universe rearranging itself to make room for him once again. Where his fingers touch Vlad’s skin, he feels himself coming back.

The kiss ends and Vlad is looking at him, an eternity and a thousand lifetimes of love in his eyes.

“Hi, Karl,” he says.

And the world continues on.

*

On Friday, Karl wakes up with Vlad who remembers him.

And, on Friday, Fate wakes up.

*

 _Well done,_ Time says to Coincidence as she rejoins him in Tito Santi’s unit. 

_It wasn’t hard. Their hearts were practically begging to return to each other_ , Coincidence said as she sat down on the second floor.

Below them, in the middle of the living room, Karl and Vlad were in each other’s arms, eyes closed and lost in each other’s presence. 

The world around them was realigning, reforming and reemerging. Suddenly, Fate appears beside Time and Coincidence.

 _Welcome back, dear,_ Time says and Fate stretches, clearly having enjoyed her sleep.

 _What happened?_ Coincidence asks.

Fate joined them on the floor and they all watched Karl and Vlad below.

 _It was time for them to go_ , Fate said.

 _Yes, they had their time in this lifetime_ , Time added.

 _But they weren’t ready_ , Fate continued. 

_I took Karl first, erased his existence in this universe and was ready to move him to another one_ , Fate said and then smiled. _But Vlad, of course, Vlad was simply not ready to give him up. I felt him reach out, pull out and grab Karl like he knew his heart was being taken away._

 _And their love snapped them back together, incomplete as it may be_ , Fate said. _The force of it defied me and actually put me to sleep._

They watched their two lost stars, standing in the middle of the living room, holding each other tight. Eyes closed and swaying to music that only they could hear, music that not even all of the cosmos could eavesdrop on.

 _They just loved each other too much in this lifetime_ , Fate said. _They could never have enough_.

 _Their love made Fate fall asleep and their love woke up Fate. When you have a love like that, I suppose all the time in the world is never going to be enough_ , Time said.

 _How was Karl able to come back?_ Coincidence asked.

 _Vlad’s love rewrote him into existence_ , Fate said. 

They watched from the second floor, legs threaded through the gaps between the balcony railings, feet dangling below. Somehow, in the middle of their soundless dance, Karl and Vlad managed to hold each other tighter, closer, unwilling to let go.

 _When you’ve loved someone for eternities before, you always carry their existence with you,_ Fate said.

 _So, what now?_ Time asked. _Do we let them have this?_

Fate shook her head. _You ask as if you don’t know the answer already._

Time looked down on the two, all the ages of eternity in his eyes and yet, for the first time, he felt so small compared to the love that they had. 

_Yes, we will let them have this_ , he said. _They deserve it_.

Time turned to Fate and Coincidence and said, _now, it’s time for us to go._

There was the faint sound like sand falling to the bottom of an hourglass and, in the next second, Time was gone.

The sound of surprised laughter, of an idea, of traffic lights turning green and Coincidence was gone too.

Then there was the sound of puzzle pieces clicking together, of two hearts beating in sync and Fate started fading away. As she turned opaque-transluscent-transparent, she took one last look at them and smiled.

_Live well, my stars._

And then she was gone.

*

_No matter what shape the stars choose to take in this universe. No matter how eternity unravels in this timeline. No matter what lives we live in this lifetime._

_I will find you and I will love you again._


End file.
